


The Cavalry

by buttered_onions



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Important Conversations, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Space Battles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9391031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttered_onions/pseuds/buttered_onions
Summary: After answering a distress call from a nearby planet, Team Voltron is helplessly split. Hunk, Keith, and Shiro face off against surprise reinforcements up in space, numbers they didn’t expect to have to deal with.  Lance and Pidge are down below on the planet’s surface, trapped in a cataclysmic storm threatening to completely overwhelm them and the innocent (if somewhat familiar) inhabitants. Voltron is their only hope – assuming, of course, that Shiro can get them all reunited in time.Even then, as Defenders of the Universe, the work is never quite done. Sometimes the biggest battles are yet to be fought.The conclusion, as such, to Heading To War.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of Season Two, I and three other authors banded together to write a mini-series of connected one-shots: Heading To War. I'm so excited to bring this conclusion to you today.
> 
> This fic can stand alone, but will make so much more sense if you've read more sense if you've read those first.  
> [Part One:](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Heading_To_War/works/9350345) [mumblefox](http://mumblefox.tumblr.com)  
> [Part Two:](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9369254) [bosstoaster](http://bosstoaster.tumblr.com)  
> [Part Three:](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9378713) [ashinan](http://ashinan.tumblr.com) *definitely read this first if nothing else!  
> Part Four: you are here!
> 
> I'm honored to present the conclusion of this little series. Thanks for tagging along; swing by on [tumblr](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com) if you'd like to say hello. Wishing you all the best in season two!

The three Lions hover in space, observing the destruction of their victory.

Space is a mess of metal parts, a graveyard of silver and purple destruction that the Black, Red, and Yellow Lions drift over. The light from the planet’s sun reflects off what’s left of Galra engineering, the pieces shattered and shorn through space. The battle had been short.

“Did they make it?” Keith wonders aloud.

The planet turns below them, its surface entirely obscured by swirling, angry clouds. Pidge and Lance had gone down into it too long ago. Shiro frowns, tapping open a screen. Where Lance’s face should be is nothing but empty static, staggering and rough. “Lance?”

Nothing. That isn’t reassuring.

“I can’t reach Pidge,” Hunk reports, frustrated.

Shiro swallows and tabs over to a new channel, keeping the first open just in case. “Lance?”

Still nothing.

 _Cubs are fine,_ Black reassures him.

“Allura?” Shiro asks, instead.

 _“The storm must be interfering with their comms,”_ Coran says for the Princess, the tap of his fingers audible as he types on the projected screens. _“I can try and boost their signal remotely - give me half a tick.”_

“Do you think he’s okay?” Hunk asks, nervously pinging up on a screen to Shiro’s left. “That storm looks pretty bad down there. Shiro, I know Pidge went after him but she’s so small - ”

“Calm down, Pidge went after him to help,” Keith interrupts. The Red Lion swoops amongst the debris, already ripping apart larger pieces and breaking them down as Keith grows tired of sitting still. It’s a methodic sort of clean-up: leaving a minefield of exploded pieces around an innocent planet is a curse no one asked for. The least Voltron can do is help clean up a little. “She’s smart. They’re going to be just fine.”

“That’s right,” Shiro says, reassuringly. “Hunk, don’t worry. We’ll give Lance a couple more ticks to check in and then we’ll go down there and give them some back-up ourselves. Coran, anything?”

 _“Miracles take time,”_ Coran says, far too pleasantly. _“Actually, I’ve found - ”_

Whatever Coran’s found Shiro will never know. Without warning four new ships slam out of space directly in front of them, a pop-snap out of nowhere as their cloaking devices finally drop. Keith pulls up wildly from the hull of the cruiser he’d been breaking down as a Galra gunship - new, hot, and angry - fires on him point-blank.

“Keith!” Hunk shouts.

Keith barely nicks out of the way in time, spiraling free with the agility only the Red Lion fully possesses. If it’d been anyone else that would’ve been it. All around the three Lions space fills with more ships. A second gunship partners with the first, chasing Keith; two Transporter ships neatly open their hangers and spill their swarms of new drones, buzzing, plentiful, _angry_. Space is full of Galra purple and steel _once again_.

Reinforcements.

_Reinforcements._

“How?!” Shiro blurts.

“Not fair!” Hunk groans. “Are you kidding me?”

 _“They must’ve gotten the call off,”_ Allura says. Her voice is marked with tight frustration. _“Why did they have so many ships in this sector?”_

“Where did they come from?!” Keith yells. He sends Red into another spiral, ducking under the gunship, swinging low. The gunship isn’t fast enough; Red pops up on the other side, spewing lasers and flame in a directed target. “We don’t have time for this! We have to go help Pidge and Lance!”

“I’m helping _you_ first!” Hunk declares. Hunk barrels in with his lasers, and the force of Red’s fire and Yellow’s cannon blows the gunship to quick smithereens. “Shiro! Shiro, what do we do?”

Of all the times - of all the _worst timing._ “We’ll have to be faster at taking out the battlecruiser next time. Hunk, Keith, stop those transporters before they can let out any more drones, we’re outnumbered as it is. Princess - ”

 _“A little busy at the moment!”_ Allura shouts tightly. _“They’re right on top of us - they came from nowhere!”_

The Castle’s still hidden behind one of the planet’s two moons, too far to reach quickly. If reinforcements have dropped out there as well, Allura and Coran are on their own. “Do you need help?”

 _“No,”_ Allura responds hotly, her voice distracted. _“Give us three of your Earth minutes and we’ll be out there to help. Coran, fire!”_

Shiro doesn’t have time to follow up; his comm crackles, different than before. A quiet window to the right, previously only static, blurs into a familiar blue face.

“Shiro?”

At last, at long last there is the voice Shiro’s been waiting for. Lance’s face blinks back at him, blurry with jagged lines of static but whole, hale, and definitely not squished mid-atmosphere.

Shiro can’t hide his relief. “Lance!”

“Lance?!” Hunk echoes, “Is he okay? Is he alright?”

Lance’s already frazzled picture keeps cutting out, gone and then back again. Black grumbles a discontented apology; there’s nothing she can do to boost it. Blue is strong, but the storm is stronger. “Dammit,” Shiro curses, vehemently. “Lance, they got the signal for reinforcements off, we’re coming after you but it’s going to be a bit longer. You guys okay down there?”

“Do you need us back?” Lance asks. The connection is so broken Shiro can barely make out his words.

“No,” Shiro says, immediately. “No, it’s just a small fleet, but I’m worried there will be more.” Like another battlecruiser, for instance; if one of those drops out of warp they’ll definitely need Lance and Pidge. As it is, all the enemy has is numbers - surprise numbers, but that’s all. Shiro frowns. “Allura and Coran are dropping their cloaks to help. Get eyes on the ground and relay back.”

Lance opens his mouth to reply -

“Shiro look out!” Hunk yells, just as Black trills a warning. The controls react without Shiro’s conscious effort as Black launches herself to the side. The lasers of a new gunship rip right through where Shiro and Black had just been.

Close call.

“You okay?” Keith demands. Red peels off from where she’d been breaking through the drone ranks, beelining straight for him.

“We’re fine,” Shiro says. His heart pounds in his throat. “Thanks, Black.”

His Lion smiles - just a warm press in the back of his mind that Shiro equates with a smile, really, dedicated and fiercely regal even as she scans for the next threat. Shiro pulls Lance’s screen back up. “Lance?”

Nothing. The connection, such as it was, is gone.

“Lance!” Hunk hollers, desperate. Shiro leans to tap Hunk’s channel up, a quick flurry of his left fingertips even as his right hand helps Black dodge another burst of laserfire. _“Lance!”_

“He’s fine, Hunk!” Shiro calls. The alternative’s not worth thinking about. “If anyone can get through that weather it’s Lance. Stay the course, we’re almost there and then we’ll go after them. Hunk, you’re on point. Keith! Take left. Let’s show these drones what happens when you try to outnumber Voltron. Are you with me?”

Hunk, bless his heart, is nothing if not solid; he may panic, but he always pulls through. “On it!”

Red falls in line behind Yellow. “You got it.”

Shiro swings Black down to join. “Let’s _do_ this!”

The Lions work together almost without direction, missing members of their party or not. Yellow drives forwards, Hunk’s battle shout echoing through all their helmets. A wave of drones surrounds one of the transporters like a living shield; Yellow slams through them as a perfect cannonball, splitting the ranks to left and right with a violent cry. Keith’s fire catches three of the drones on the left, exploding them instantly. The chain reaction spreads hot and fast, an entire slew of drones obliterating in the silence of space like wildfire. On Hunk’s right Shiro and Black go to town with the jaw blade, slicing chaos and destruction in a perfect, deadly trail. At the head of their trio Yellow breaks through and rams jaws-open into the transporter, unleashing a massive bolt of energy that lights the ship up from the inside. There’s a brief bright flash of illumination before it, too, explodes.

“Nice work, Hunk!” Shiro cheers.

Hunk’s already pulling Yellow around, aiming for another ship. “Just try and keep me from Lance!”

The details blur, a bit; for a time, Shiro’s too busy to keep track beyond the immediate. There’s two gunships, one transporter, and a slew of angry drones left to deal with, plus whatever is hounding Allura and Coran behind the moons. The three Lions split off, dodging lasers and vicious gunfire, zigzagging frustratingly out of range and cheating death with every second. Black’s shield can take more damage, so Shiro veers straight for one of the gunships, saving time and energy. It tries to dodge but can’t; Black’s maneuverability may not be equal to Red’s, but she’s faster and better than anything _Galra-made_. Her claws sink into the gunship’s hull and tear it open. Glowing lines appear after Black’s claws as Shiro pulls them smoothly all the way through. Finally Black rips free and away with a neat flick of her tail, nearly demure and smug.

The gunship explodes behind them.

Predictably no one notices. Hunk’s face-first with a mouthful of the last transporter ship, ripping it to shreds. Keith’s being chased by a determined trio of drones. Before Shiro can turn to help Keith slams on the brakes; Red’s paws light up with braking thrusters and she screeches to a halt mid-space. The drones overshoot. Keith snaps open the thrusters and the lasers all at once, opening fire. The drones don’t stand a chance.

“Yeah!” Hunk crows, over Keith’s whoop of victory.

“Just a few more and we’ve got them,” Shiro agrees, grinning with fierce pride. They’re cleaning up slowly but surely out here.

“Then we go after Lance,” Hunk says firmly. Yellow curves in over the top of Black’s view, chasing down a handful of escaping drones. The drones don’t make it far before the vengeful Yellow Lion takes them all out. “That’s right, you Galra rats, try and run!”

“Easy, Hunk,” Shiro cautions, but Hunk’s enthusiasm is contagious; they’re all laughing. Red swoops past, lasers full-force on the last remaining gunship. Wordlessly Shiro and Black swing round to help.

Together all of them clean up space, bit by bit, piece by piece. The Galra can’t stand in the face of the ferocity and determination of three Lions functioning as the planet’s only defense, a visceral wall of the universe’s only hope. It’s slow and it isn’t pretty, but Shiro didn’t come this far to lose to a handful of _reinforcements_. That’s not what he’s about. That’s not what _Voltron_ is about. That’s not who they are.

Finally there’s just one lonely transporter left, its hangers empty and bereft of further aid. It’s trying desperately to escape, taking advantage of the Lions’ distraction to book it behind one of the planet’s two moons.

“Who wants it?” Shiro asks, pulling Black up. She hums at him, sedate and pleased. They’ve done well.

“Dibs,” Hunk calls, already racing forwards.

“Not if I get there first,” Keith corrects, zipping past him.

“Play nice,” Shiro tries, though he’s laughing too. They did it. They made it through. They’re a real team, a real group of Paladins, and Shiro couldn’t be prouder.

Sendak’s wrong. This _is_ where Shiro belongs. He can do this. It’s what he was built for.

Voltron needs him.

The comms sparkle to life as Keith and Hunk try to outrace each other, but instead of Lance’s reassuring blue helmet on Shiro’s screen it’s a different face entirely.

“Shiro!”

“Pidge!” Shiro exclaims. Pidge’s face fills the screen where Lance should be, lines of static drifting through the image and blurring most of her features. Wild relief bursts into Shiro’s chest, threatening to choke him. They’re _alive_. “Pidge, where are you? What’s happening?”

“Boy am I glad to see you,” Pidge cries. Her voice is garbled from the terrible connection; Shiro thumbs up the volume, leaning forwards as if proximity will help him hear better. Black boosts the connection and the picture stabilizes just slightly, though not enough for true clarity. “Shiro, we’re in trouble. It’s bad down here!”

“What’s bad?” Shiro asks. “Did you make it to the ground?”

“There _is_ no ground,” Pidge reports and, through the blur, the barely-veiled panic on her face is still crystal clear. Oh. Oh _no_. “I mean, there is, but Green can’t handle it - it’s too wet and there’s nowhere to stand. Blue’s shielding us but she can’t for long. We’re sinking too fast!”

“Sinking?!” That’s Hunk listening in over Shiro’s open line. Panic tints his voice too, strong to match Pidge’s mild terror. “Pidge, what do you mean by ‘sinking?!’”

“Can you get to drier ground?” Shiro asks.

Pidge shakes her head, the movement blurred and delayed. “There _is_ no drier ground! There’s some kind of ancient Artifact up in the sky that’s messing with all of the weather. That’s why the Ka’alia sent out the distress signal in the first place. The Artifact’s causing this weather to go haywire, and all the Ka’alia will say is that we need to ‘remove’ it before it’ll stop!”

Wait.

Wait wait _wait_.

“Weather artifact?” Shiro asks, sharply.

“The Ka’alia?” Keith says, his screen snapping into view on Shiro’s left. “This is _their_ planet?!”

“The _what_ now?” Hunk overlaps, his screen active right beneath Keith’s. “The Artifact? Are the Asperion here too, if this is the Ka’alia’s home?”

“Wait, how do you know about the Asperion?” Keith counters, glaring down at his screen like the force of his gaze could wrangle answers. “Did - ”

“Did _you_ meet them?!” Hunk gasps, gaping up at Keith. “When?”

“Did _you_?”

“Focus,” Shiro commands, cutting through the babble. “We can figure out whose planet this is and how we all know them in a second. Pidge, how long do you guys have?”

Pidge shakes her head again, frowning hard. “I don’t know. Shiro, it’s bad. I hit the atmosphere wrong and Green’s hurt; we can’t take off without help. Lance is trying, but with the Artifact causing this monsoon there’s nothing we can do. We can’t get up there to turn it off. Until we turn it off, it’s going to keep monsooning, and the Ka’alia and Asperion will drown!”

Nope. Not acceptable. _Not on Shiro’s watch._

“Stay calm,” he orders, keeping eye contact with the blurry Pidge. “We’re coming to help. Guys, you got that last ship yet?”

“Almost,” Keith grunts. Red outstrips Yellow after the desperately fleeing Transporter, still barreling for the moons in a relative bid for safety -

\- which it might just earn, because two gunships rocket out from behind the safety of the farthest moon, lasers hot and firing. Keith pulls sharply on the brakes, flinging Red into a rolling dodge. “Shit!”

“We don’t have time for this!” Hunk wails, unleashing Yellow’s cannon. The gunships dodge -

\- directly into a storm of laserfire as the Castle finally, _finally_ uncloaks, appearing from behind the curve of the second moon and blasting for all they’re worth. One gunship explodes into violent pieces.

 _“Try and sneak up on_ my _Paladins,”_ Allura declares fiercely. Coran’s whoop can be heard in the background. _“Sorry that took a tick. Shiro, go. We’ve got it up here.”_

Shiro hesitates. The sole remaining transporter curves in space, a frantic windmill of a halt. “Are you sure, Princess?”

The castle fires. The last gunship goes up in smoke and a fireball of beautiful flame.

 _“I think we can handle this,”_ Allura says, smugly.

“Pidge, we’re on our way,” Shiro reports immediately. He doesn’t need to give further instructions; Red and Yellow disengage without being told, peeling off and away from the moons and straight for the planet’s surface. The dark clouds covering the planet’s atmosphere beckon them, swirling and ominous. If lightning licks along their surface it’s not visible from here. “Just hang on.”

“Where are you guys?” Keith asks, of Pidge. “Can you meet us at that - weather-thing?”

“It’s an Artifact,” Hunk corrects, as they race for the planet. “Right? Shiro, do you think it’s the same thing we helped them get?”

Keith’s frown is audible. “When did you help them?”

“I’m guessing right after you did,” Shiro offers, slyly.

“No, it’s too far,” Pidge says, pulling the conversation back to answer Keith’s original question. “Blue’s barely keeping us up as it is. I’ll activate my emergency beacon so you can find us, but - oh! Keith! Keith, you have to stick close to Black or Yellow as soon as you break atmosphere. Red’s not going to like this.”

Keith blinks on Shiro’s screen. The surface of the planet looms ever closer, seconds away from the paws of the rescuing Lions. “Not going to like what?”

 

 _“Dammit!”_ Keith screams, spiraling through the atmosphere and the clouds and the vicious, brutal storm. The storm swirls above and around all the Lions as they slice through the clouds at a downward angle. The ferocious winds buffet the Red Lion ceaselessly; Keith’s thrown like a toy, and though Red tries to activate her braking thrusters, her forward motion, _anything_ , the force of the gale’s too strong for her. “Guys, I can’t - Red can’t - we can’t take this!”

“You want him or should I?” Hunk whispers loudly, across the open comm.

“I’ve got him,” Shiro says, already zipping forwards. Black’s jaw closes firmly over Red’s back for the second time since this adventure began, keeping her firm and steady. The wind’s strong enough that Shiro can feel it too; in the split second it takes his focus to nab Red, Black slips in the side stream, blown fiercely off course until Shiro can correct. “Woah!”

“This is _nuts!”_ Hunk yells. The static that plagued Pidge and Lance’s screens stutters across his face, the force of the storm finally affecting all of them despite their relative proximity. With her massive size Yellow’s handling the weather relatively well, but the sideways rain still sluices off her nose and down to the distant ground below - so distant Shiro’s not even sure there _is_ a ground. They’re too high up in the clouds yet. Lightning snaps, too close. “How are we supposed to find anything in this weather?!”

“Keith, I need you do to a scan with Red, see if you can pick up anything,” Shiro says. A ferocious gust of wind slams into Black’s wings, nearly tipping them over; Black growls at the disruption, frustrated. Shiro grits his teeth and corrects for their balance. “Lance, Pidge, any sign of that Artifact - you’re not flying so you get to man the sensors. Got it?”

“Got it,” Keith says. He sounds breathless, winded through the static.

“You hurt?” Shiro asks.

“Just shook,” Keith replies tightly. “Pidge was right about the angle, it’s gonna be a bit before Red can fly. And I don’t think we can, in this.”

“Less talk, more sensors,” Hunk moans. The Yellow Lion dips beneath a surge of wind, buffeted downwards; Hunk yelps. “Shiro! We can’t do this much longer!”

“Head for the ground,” Shiro commands. Hunk’s right; they can’t take this. Black and Yellow are doing relatively fine, for their size, but Shiro doesn’t want to test the Lions’ endurance against a force of nature clearly strong enough to bombard an entire _planet_.

Keith shakes his head, the red light of readouts shadowing his face on the screen. “Pidge said there _wasn’t_ ground!”

Fierce lightning sizzles inches from Yellow’s tail. “We’ve gotta do _something!”_ Hunk wails.

“Maybe the storm’ll be less strong once we’re not up in the thick of it,” Shiro says, as much a guess as anything. “Pidge said she was activating her beacon so we could find them. Anything?”

“I’ve got that,” Keith reports. He transfers the signal; a beacon lights up on Shiro’s dashboard, pinging green to the south. It’s weak but there. “We’re off course but if you readjust, shouldn’t take more than a couple - ”

“What is _that?!”_ Hunk gasps.

The Lions pull up short, or as much as they can while being buffeted from every side, hovering slip-slide in place in midair.

Ahead of them a large circular object hovers in midair, right beneath the surface of the clouds. It’s spinning fast, a blur of motion only recognizable for the fact that it _isn’t_ rain or lightning but something that clearly doesn’t belong. Lightning crackles over the object’s surface as it rotates faster than Shiro can track, water sluicing off the surface and streaming violently with the rest of the rain to the ground far below. Clouds swirl around the object but can’t get near; it’s a force unto itself, strange symbols etched into its surface glowing eerily in the storm-created night. It’s so dark up here that the symbols are nearly blinding, bright hypnotic blue against the backdrop of angry clouds.

Hunk gapes. “Is that - ”

“That’s the Artifact,” Shiro breathes. It’s much, much bigger now than it was when Lance pulled it out of the Galra storage facility. Lance had been able to toss it from hand to hand then, casual and easy. There’s no tossing this; the Artifact’s swollen to three times its original size, soaked with rage and weather. “But it can’t - ”

“What Artifact?” Keith demands. “Have you seen it before?”

Hunk swallows thickly. “Yeah. Yeah, it was in the storage facility with the crystals - but it wasn’t _that big_ when Lance found it and it _definitely wasn’t spewing lightning!”_

“The Asperion and Ka’alia wanted it to fix their planet and help their people survive,” Shiro explains, thinking back.

“This is _survival?”_ Keith asks, skeptical. “They mentioned something about the weather when Pidge and I ran into them, but this doesn’t seem like it’s fixing anything at all!”

Hunk frowns. “When did you run into Dreyak and Haikon?”

Keith blinks. “Who?”

“Later,” Shiro says. They’re running out of time. “Whatever the Asperion and Ka’alia wanted, it’s our job to help. If we can shut it down from up here that’ll make it easier to find Pidge and Lance. Hunk, I’m not taking Keith in. Can you - ”

“On it,” Hunk says. Yellow eases forwards, slow and steady. The wind pushes her to the right; Yellow pushes back, aiming for the Artifact. The storm gets worse the closer Hunk gets, the Artifact itself spewing out more and more lightning, crackling waves of vicious heat. Hunk yelps as one nearly sears his Lion’s paw. “It doesn’t want me to get close!”

“Keep trying,” Shiro says. “Do you see an off-switch or something?”

“I don’t remember one from tossing this thing at Haikon in the first place,” Hunk grumbles. His face is a mask of concentration as Yellow dodges a sudden burst of rain, shifts against the wind, and finally rushes forward, close enough. “Unless it’s one of these symbol things?”

“Be careful,” Shiro warns. Yellow balances in midair with her tail, keeping her place with her thrusters.

“Don’t have to tell me,” Hunk mutters under his breath. “Maybe this one - ah-ha!”

Yellow reaches out a careful paw and bats at one of the glowing symbols as it spins by. The Artifact’s wild spinning mercifully, blessedly, stops. It groans, creaking in front of them to an ungraceful but earnest halt.

“Yes!” Hunk cheers. The rain spewing from the Artifact ceases, the covering lightning flickering away. For a moment the Artifact hangs there, a simple gravity-defying vessel no more or less dangerous than whatever Shiro and Hunk and Lance had originally plucked out of the Galra storage locker, on a moon not too far away.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Keith says, in disbelief.

Hunk lets go of his controls long enough to pump the air. “Score one for Hunk!”

“How is it still staying up?” Keith wonders, peering out the side of Red’s windows. “Should it be glowing like that?”

It’s true. The blue symbols on the Artifact are dull, but definitely still illuminated. They pulse, suddenly, a weak glow growing stronger.

“Uh,” Hunk starts.

The Artifact rumbles, a slow but noticeable tremor as the vibrations begin back up.

“Uh oh,” Hunk says weakly.

Shiro leans forwards urgently. “Hunk, get out of there!”

Yellow flails back violently and ungracefully, a tail-over-head lurch out of the way as the Artifact leaps to life. The object begins to spin again with increased viciousness, faster and faster, a top picking up speed. The symbols snap from faded blue to blinding white with an audible _shoom_ that whips out from the Artifact like a shockwave, a blast of icy wind so strong it bowls Hunk over and sends Black and Red flying.

“Shiro!” Keith yelps. Black closes her jaws tighter around Red, tucking her close as Shiro wrestles to keep them in the air. Something pings _hard_ against Black’s armor, a _ping ping ping_ that’s definitely not reassuring.

“What the hell, man!” Hunk cries. Shiro struggles to right Black, swinging them back upright or at least _something_ not falling upside-down towards the ground below. He manages, but has to curve all the way around again in order to catch sight of the Artifact.

The Artifact, now spinning viciously once more. Lightning crackles over its surface again. Instead of dropping rain, it’s dropping baseball-sized, growing balls of _hail_.

It’s not a monsoon anymore; it’s a white-out, blind-staggering _blizzard_.

“Oh no,” Shiro says emphatically.

“What did you _do?!”_ Keith asks, as Shiro pulls them both away, as Yellow fights to rejoin them. The Artifact’s spewing snow at a vicious increasing pace, the pawprint-sized flakes landing atop Black’s windows with nothing even close to silent ease. The white streaks past as Shiro flies, visibility shrinking to zero. At least with the rain the windows cleared themselves after a time; this snow’s threatening to build up quickly and last Shiro checked none of the Lions came with windshield wipers.

“Nothing!” Hunk wails. “I just _bopped_ it, it shouldn’t have done this!”

“There’s no time for panic,” Shiro interrupts. Black murmurs in the back of his mind, a gentle correction. The cockpit warms as she heats it, pulling from her energy stores. The snow on her windows melts slightly, but not fast enough. They have to land, _now_. “We have to find Pidge and Lance before they’re buried in this!”

“I’m on it,” Keith says. His face is flushed; Red probably had a similar idea, undoubtedly overcompensating and gleeful with her abundant heat. “You guys just fly.”

 

“There you guys are!” Lance cries. The Blue and Green Lions are waiting for them exactly where the beacon indicates, pinging distress and alarm. A thick layer of snow’s gathered on Blue’s back in the ten minutes it takes Black, Yellow, and Red to reach them. At first Shiro can’t find Pidge - but no, there she is, huddled _on top of Blue’s paws_ in a desperate attempt to stay off the sludgy ground. “A little help? What took you so long!”

“Weird weather,” Shiro offers. The comms are finally clear for their proximity, both Lance and Pidge’s screens active in Shiro’s view. The Castle’s still offline, somewhere up in space; Shiro can only hope that more reinforcements haven’t shown up in the brief time they’ve been down here. There’s no way the Lions could get back up through that storm as it is now. “Pidge, you alright?”

“Fine,” Pidge says. Blue’s paws are sunk into the ground almost completely, Green precariously balanced out of the mud by a scant handful of inches. They aren’t sinking anymore, but only because the mud is _frozen solid_ around Blue’s paws where she’s sunk. Neither Blue nor Green are going anywhere. “Is that Keith in your _mouth?”_

“Shut up,” Keith grumbles.

“You were totally right about the winds,” Hunk says, grinning. “Why would the Ka’alia even want this?”

“They’re really nice,” Pidge offers, as Shiro swings Black closer to the ground to take a look at their frozen paws. “They gave Keith and me a thank-you ceremony and everything. They’re glad we’re here, even if this isn’t exactly the welcome they wanted for Voltron.”

Lance pouts. “A ceremony? We didn’t get a ceremony!”

“Maybe they will when we slap that thing out of the sky for them,” Hunk says. “Wait, _can_ we slap it out of the sky? You don’t think they want it back, do you?”

“Not if there’s no way to turn it off,” Lance says. “All they said was we need to _remove_ it; I don’t think they really care how as long as it stops turning their planet into a popsicle.”

“Pidge, you said Green was hurt,” Shiro interrupts. “Can you fly?”

“I think so.” Pidge taps at her screens, bringing up diagnostics. “We’re rerouting some power so we can manage it, but same as with the monsoon, Green can’t handle these winds on her own. It’s going to take more than what Green has to get off the ground.”

“Then we’ll help you,” Shiro decides. “Hunk, if I keep hold of Keith, can you and Lance get Pidge off the ground between the two of you?”

“Yes!”

“Absolutely,” Lance croons. “We got you covered, lil’ Pidgeon.”

“Shut up,” Pidge groans.

“Okay, then,” Shiro says. “Here’s the plan. Keith’s going to free Blue with Red’s fire. Hunk and Lance are going to help Pidge take off. We’re all going to get up in the air and _as soon as we’re in the air_ we’re going to let both Red and Green go for long enough to form Voltron.”

It’s the only way. None of the Lions were built to stand up to a shifting storm of this magnitude for long. Blue has the best chance, with her natural weather affinity for all things wet and wild; Black and Yellow are next based on size alone, but not even Black can keep this up forever. Voltron is their only hope.

“Have we ever formed Voltron that fast?” Hunk asks doubtfully, even as he swings into position.

“We’ll have a window of maybe five seconds,” Pidge agrees. Worry tinges her voice, bleeding through. “Keith and I can’t handle these winds for longer than that; we’ll fall. What if - ”

“If you fall we’ll catch you,” Shiro says, confidently. “We just need to get enough distance that we can form Voltron. You can do this. Ready?”

“Ready,” Lance confirms. Blue flexes her paws but can’t break through the ice. Shiro angles Black so Red and Keith can reach; Red’s fire quickly burns through the frozen mud keeping Blue immobile.

“Ready,” Hunk agrees, pulling Yellow into position at the front of Blue’s paws. Yellow nudges Green ever-so-slightly, fond and reassuring.

“Ready,” Pidge admits, though nerves still shiver in her voice. Shiro understands. The window’s tight. “Shiro - ”

“Trust me,” Shiro says. “Keith?”

Keith nods, his screen to Shiro’s steady and true, something deep in his gaze. Keith’s always been there for him. “Ready.”

“Okay,” Shiro says. They can _do_ this. “Lance, Pidge, on my mark. Three - two - one - go!”

Blue takes off. Ice crackles off her back, snow dislodging in bitter drifts. With a burst of effort Green shoots out from beneath her. Yellow catches her neatly between massive jaws, keeping her safe. Blue overbalances in the winds at first but handles it better than even Black; her affinity for the weather more than makes up for her size, and Lance rockets past all three of them with a wild crow of success up into the sky. All five of the Lions, at last, are airborne. Mobile. Free.

And ready to kick some frozen weather Artifact ass.

“Alright, everyone,” Shiro commands, as they reach altitude. Red shifts in Black’s grip; Yellow and Blue hover, prepared. The time, finally, is now. _“Form Voltron!”_

 

It’s strange, when Voltron happens.

 

Everything is separate, to start, until suddenly and abruptly it isn’t and you aren’t. You are yourself, but there’s - others, pressing just past the edge of what you should be able to touch, separated from you by glass-thin barriers past the edges of a spinning mind. Your mind circles, determined and strong, out to reach, bridge, to touch in ways that shouldn’t be possible. There’s four others linking, meshing, slipping sliding over thoughts and feelings like they belong here. They don’t, and they do. The thinning barrier isn’t glass so much as lace, gossamer and ribbon keeping you _you_ and everyone else _you_ as well. Everyone belongs here.

You are five separate people with five separate desires, needs, skills, wants. One of you is hot-headed, prone to anger faster; one of you is the better pilot, even if you’ll never admit it. One of you likes the outside world; one of you can’t stand the stillness. One of you misses home so badly; one of you agrees, though you never talk about it. One of you covers pain with loud words and silly gestures; one of you buries anxiety in comforts, digging deep for something familiar and known. One of you never sleeps; one of you always forgets to eat something; one of you carries the weight of the world on your shoulders. One of you has trouble letting others in. One of you is always saying _yes_ and one of you is always springing barriers thicker than glass, hiding secrets even though we _promised_ , one of you is still trying and this mental bond takes promises and secrets and, and, and.

Despite that, you belong here.

All five of you.

The jarring thing is that this is still _new_. Voltron has been a - handful of times, since the beginning. Since the first fever-pitch panic of _them or us, it’s been an honor flying with you boys, no! we have to believe in ourselves, we manage this or we die trying and the universe, the universe can’t take that after everything I’ve been through._ This is the fifth time in as many weeks. Months. You cannot solve that now. Time means nothing when there are four others pressing in on you, pulling back. A give and take you willingly reach out and participate in as you are caught, connected, and spun.

This is everything.

The strength of will alone carries you; the spinning determination, deep and rooted. It is a union; it is a bond; it is a _formation_ as much as it is a partnership and a prayer. Pistons connect; claws retract. Bolts slide home; locks accept. This is a consolidation of _you_ and _them_ and _us._ You can see everything. Your reluctance. Your dreams. Memories chased and forgotten; memories buried and sunk. Your bond with your Lion is as deep as it ever has been, here, and your bonds with your friends will never, ever run truer than this drift.

You’ve never been so close to _whole._

It is a sea of colors and rainbow confusion, of me and them and you in a way that you have only ever dreamed of. Green tumbles over red mixed with yellow meeting blue, colors distinct in their twining ribbons of spinning shining glory, separation braiding and uniting in perfect, perfect formation. And through it all, _you_ becomes _us_ becomes a thin shining ribbon of quicksilver, spinning sharper, stronger, _more_. It tugs.

You tug back.

He tugs -

And all at once there is _Voltron_ and you are still you, united, but you are Pidge and Keith and Hunk and Lance and Shiro and you

are

Voltron.

 

“Let’s do this,” Shiro says.

 

 

Pidge’s sigh of relief is the first thing they’re all aware of, a spring-green breath coursing through all their lungs as she exhales.

“Pidge?” Lance asks. Blue-tinged worry leaks through the bond, gentle and warm. Shiro breathes that in too, lets it wash over all of them.

“We can fix that back at the Castle,” Hunk offers immediately, golden reassurance flowing true. “It’s not bad, Green’s just a little banged up. Keith too.”

A flash of scarlet embarrassment. “Keith’s fine,” Keith tries.

“Dude, I can feel Red bruising from here,” Lance corrects, cerulean deep and teasing. “What’d you do, hit the entry angle wrong? Pidge warned you! I heard her!”

“Focus,” Shiro says, though it’s fond. Words are colored, here, bound and promised as their souls share as naturally with one another as breathing. Pidge’s clever emerald mingles easily as Hunk’s sun-warm embrace flows around her, wrapping her in laughter and affirmation. Keith’s crimson partnership is bolstered on the other side with Lance’s easy sapphire, mingling in an unspoken support the two of them are still learning how to display outside of Voltron. It’s easy to feel them all like this: bright, young, brilliant. So full of energy and hope.

Unfortunately Voltron has a way of breaking down other barriers, too.

They’re new enough at this that it still catches Shiro unaware, tosses him off guard for a brief vulnerable moment. One moment’s all it takes. A flash of a sickening violet thought wraps around his lungs, springing out of nowhere: he can’t _think_ when there’s putrid magenta swirling in the thickening waters below, when it creeps up on him and invades his mind unasked for and uninvited, bared teeth and electricity and a laser eye smiling, smiling, _you’re broken -_

Shiro slams it back down, smothers the thought in inky darkness and coils it in jet-black coal before pushing it deep, deep away. The sea of horrors doesn’t so much retreat as rumble, discontented in amnesia, waiting for night. Shiro forces himself to ignore it, scrambles to pull himself above water. He doesn’t have time for this. Voltron needs him. His _friends_ need him. He can’t dwell.

A touch of warmth brushes at the edge of his muddied thoughts: a carmine ember, quietly beckoning bright.

“Shiro?” Keith says.

Shiro draws in a deep breath.

“The Artifact,” he says, calling them back. Lance and Hunk snap to focus, propelling Voltron forward again and up towards the Artifact above, working together in bright sunflower yellow, ocean blue. Pidge listens to Shiro’s next half-formed thought and takes it without prompting, pulling their shield up in celadon immediacy to block them from the worst of the hail. If anyone’s noticed his momentary lapse no one says. Shiro swallows. “The last time we tried touching that Artifact it turned into this blizzard. I don’t want to see what it’d come up with a second time. Any ideas how we take it out fast or from a distance?”

“We blast it out of the sky,” Lance says, as they go. “Pew, pew, pew! Hunk lasers, _kapow!”_

“Yeah, until it blows to pieces and falls back to the planet,” Pidge interrupts. “We’re not letting that happen. This thing’s done enough damage as it is.”

“Hunk, can you target the pieces as they fall and break them into smaller bits?” Shiro asks.

Honeyed sunlight drips around Hunk’s thoughts, flowing between them tentative and hesitant as Hunk considers _cannons_ and _gravity_ and _freefall_ with _calculations._ Pidge helps, quickfire sage, and they reach the same conclusion simultaneously. “I mean, probably? But we don’t know how many pieces it might break into, so it’s not the best idea.”

“An off-switch then,” Lance counters, navy already bleeding into new possibilities and solutions.

“It doesn’t have one,” Hunk, Keith, and Shiro chorus immediately.

Lance wilts, blue fading momentarily. “Or not. Dang.”

“The only solution is to get it out of this airspace,” Pidge says, her thoughts bounding between them quick as growing grass, as leaves ripening on vines. “If we can’t send it down - ”

“It’s going up,” Shiro concludes, following her to the same end. Their thoughts, and ideas, are one. “Once it’s up in space we can obliterate it to any sized pieces we want and it’ll never bother this planet again. Who wants the honors?”

A sky blue burst of excitement, quickly snuffed out.

“Lance does.”

“Lance.”

“Take it, Blue.”

Lance blinks, aqua barely daring to hope. “Me?”

“You got it, Lance,” Shiro says, letting his fond affection spill over. Voltron hovers in position now, a good enough distance away from the spinning Artifact that the hail and lightning can’t hurt them, close enough that a fast dash would get them there. It’s doubled in size since Shiro last saw it, spitting snow and miserable weather like there’s no tomorrow. “We’ll come at it from below and I want you to kick that thing past the stratosphere, understand?”

“I mean - yeah, but -” Lance’s pause overpowers the sky-bright excitement, dulling to cobalt, for once hesitant and withdrawn. “I keep missing on my kicks. Keith always says so.”

“Of all the times to be modest,” Keith grumbles, ruby-hot and incensed. “Lance, just do it!Kick it, and if you miss it, I’ll slap it or something and it’ll all be fine. As long as it gets out of this atmosphere, _how_ doesn’t matter. Okay?”

“I don’t need your help!” Lance snaps.

“If Lance misses we’ll swing around and go at it again,” Hunk offers instead, fierce gold loyalty. “We’ve got time. Right, Shiro?”

“Oh, sure, not like the planet’s in mortal danger from the apocalyptic Artifact or anything,” Pidge deadpans.

“If you really don’t want it, Lance, we can come up with some other way,” Shiro says, “But we should get some practice in with your kicking sometime, and this is as good an opportunity as any. What do you say?”

“You have one job,” Pidge teases. Moss creeps over her words, blooming teases of tiny invasive flowers. “Don’t mess up.”

“I’m not going to 'mess up,' _”_ Lance squawks, though Shiro can feel Lance’s hands grip tighter on the controls.

“Easy,” Shiro urges. He pushes his own reassurance through the bonds that Voltron flows; Lance relaxes, just enough. “I believe in you. Ready?”

“Ready,” Lance says, firm. Three voices echo.

“Go,” Shiro orders.

 

It is a moment that will go down in this Team Voltron’s history: not the first time that Lance’s persistence pays off, but the first true and honest time that Lance’s excellent, will-timed, ‘perfect’ kick _actually does not fail._

The battle cry of the Blue Paladin roars through all of them as Lance angles, striking hard. Hunk propels them forwards with the other Leg. Red shifts in balance; Green adjusts the shield to cover them still.

Shiro corrects their angle _just_ a tad _._

And in a perfect, cinematic moment, Voltron slams _up and underneath_ the Artifact and kicks it hard enough to send it flying, spinning snow and all, straight up into the clouds and directly toward outer space. The Artifact carves a spinning tunnel of terror through the clouds all the way up, and up, and up. Lance and Blue’s kick is strong enough and _on par enough_ that the Artifact’s left with no other choice than to purely and immediately defy gravity.

But it doesn’t quite clear the last layer of the atmosphere.

Shiro shifts with barely a thought. Lance’s disappointment rings through their bond, dismayed and deep. Shiro grabs it and twists it in a new direction, and is rewarded immediately with Lance’s beaming, cocky grin as the Blue Paladin _gets it._ The Blue Leg of Voltron swings down; Shiro doesn’t even have to beckon. Keith’s already there.

Ice streams from the Artifact, bleeding frozen liquid and lightening and threatening, threatening even now. With a final push and a cry Keith and Red slam Voltron’s hand into the rotating Artifact, open-palm, and _slap that sucker the rest of the way into space,_ where it sails head-over-spinning-glowy-symbol-heel into some of the debris left over from the space fight, and, with no intercession necessary, promptly explodes.

 _“What was that?!”_ Allura demands, her face popping up on a screen in Shiro’s sightline now that they’re above the clouds, now that communication’s been restored. Her jaw is agape in confusion. Space is empty but for the Castle, Voltron, and the fragments of an ancient Artifact, once catastrophic, now long gone into peaceful, misguided smithereens.

“Long story,” Shiro explains. His honest joy trickles past Lance’s oceans of relieved pride and Hunk’s blinding exuberant _yes we did!_ into Keith’s smug warm _I can’t believe it_ and Pidge’s sharp open laughter manifests in all of them, blooming relief, bright and true.

Voltron, again, has won.

 

Though the planet of Meristasi is still mostly frozen from the Artifact’s unfortunate reign of terror, the Hall of the Asperion and the Ka’alia is heated, dry, and quite, quite crowded.

Brilliant tendrils of sunshine leak in through wide windows of beautiful glass, the rapidly dispersing clouds rolling away on the horizon as quickly as if they had never been. Thick leaves glisten with melting frost, dripping, sated as the planet recalibrates and returns to something closer to resembling spring. Inside, the Paladins’ feet sink into soft, springy blue moss as they stand at the Hall’s end before a raised dais, loosely gathered between the trunks of thick tall trees.

The Hall itself is filled to bursting with the two symbiotic species. More Asperion than Shiro can count cling to the Ka’alia’s furry necks, content in their slow movements as the Ka’alia dip their heads to talk to one another, a murmur of syllables and _“no”_ s too many to track. No two Asperion are the same: their fur varies in a stunning variety of gentle suede, smokey grey, butterscotch yellow, silky cream. Their long claws click slow and easy against their own paws, their tiny warm eyes peering at one another in slow, slow grins stretching beneath button-round noses.

The Ka’alia, too, are resplendent. The deer-elk-horse creatures are also beautiful in more colors than Shiro’s really able to track with the naked eye: their fur is browns, coppers, russets and ambers and regal, warm dove grey. They’re simply majestic, the defining characteristic of antlers and broad chests traced with delicate markings of shining gold that Shiro’s sure are status symbols, or age, or stories they could stay for years and never fully hear. No two Ka’alia antlers are the same. The one standing in front of Lance boasts much bigger antlers than Hunk’s, and Keith’s Ka’alia has antlers that curve loop-for-loop rather than the wide points of the one in front of Shiro. The Ka’alia in front of Pidge is missing the top tips of their antlers entirely. Pidge grins at it, as if to an old friend. It’s bent its gentle, magnificent head to be perfectly at her height.

“Remember,” the Asperion with Shiro’s Ka’alia host says, so slow, so careful, as it rests a hand on Shiro’s white tuft of hair. Four other Asperion on four other Ka’alia follow suit, until each member of team Voltron has a tiny little toasted-marshmallow-colored sloth paw pressed gently on the crown of their heads.

“We declare you Voltron-no,” says the Ka’alia, and all the gathered Ka’alia in the Hall echo this sentiment in a flurry of declaration and _no_ that should sound disjointed, but instead is harmonious, true, and earnest. “Our people will speak-no your name for centuries-no, after what you have done-no for our planet today-no. We-no are forever in your debt-no. Our people will know you-no forever as friend-no and hero-no; Voltron-no is always welcome-no here.”

“This is so cool,” Lance breathes, awed.

“Told you,” Pidge says smugly, and beams a winning smile up at their new friends.

 

Things calm down for a little while after that.

They celebrate, with the Ka’alia, with the Asperion. The symbiotic species proudly joins the Voltron Alliance; Allura leaves them a communicator for the future. This is another planet the Galra will have no hold over. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

They rest. Shiro doesn’t rest, exactly. The castle’s quieter now with the new crystals, but Shiro’s mind won’t quiet down enough to let him sleep. Not well, anyway. He closes his eyes and sees purple, magenta: a putrid sea swirling, deep and waiting.

He manages a little. It’ll be enough.

They take time. Green’s fix, thankfully, is easy; Red too just requires a bit of calibration. Hunk and Pidge take care of them both handily while Keith lingers, helping how he can, mostly hovering. Shiro can relate. He’d hover too, if it was Black. Amazing, how much a part of themselves the Lions have become in such a short while.

Life returns to something of a routine. As soon as Green’s in top form again Pidge returns straight back to analyzing Sendak’s memories, cross-referencing, comparing. She’s hard at work, typing furiously, when Shiro first steps onto the bridge. The light from her computer screen reflects on her glasses. Hunk hovers helpfully at her elbow, pointing out connections in Sendak’s memories she might have missed (though ‘helpful’ is probably a bit of a relative term, judging from the twitch in Pidge’s forehead).

Lance is telling Allura the story of the Infamous Kick - _again -_ complete with demonstration, even when Coran gets involved. Shiro’s not needed.

He drifts over to one of the windows. The planet of Meristasi sits in space below, calm and still. No storms cover the peaceful orb; the Asperion and Ka’alia’s drought has ended. Kind of a dramatic ending, but well enough. They didn’t seem worried about their future. Shiro’ll take that, too.

He’s lost in thoughts like these, isn’t alone very long when the air next to him shifts just slightly. A quiet presence at his elbow, though Keith takes care to make noise as he approaches. He’s taken to doing that, lately.

Keith doesn’t talk at first. They stand in mutual silence for a while, watching the planet turn. When Keith wants something, he doesn’t announce it with a cleared throat or a brash introduction. His presence, waiting, is enough.

“You know what I’m going to ask,” Keith says, at last.

Shiro can’t look at him. The planet spins, soft and distant below. He could make Keith clarify. Could drag this out, dance around the topic - but that wouldn’t be fair to Keith. The conversation’s been coming for days now. Shiro’s really only surprised it took Keith as long as it did.

He supposes they have been a little busy.

“Shiro,” Keith says, and there’s enough layered in his quiet that Shiro does have to look over at him, now. Keith’s calm, still, the only worry on his face creased earnest between his brows. “Are you alright?”

He could still lie, technically. ‘Alright’ is a word he’s lost the meaning of. ‘Alright’ is a word that exists beyond not sleeping, beyond not coping, beyond not dwelling on broken-boned insults and lies.

Shiro’s never lied to Keith, though.

“I’d hoped you hadn’t noticed, actually,” he says, instead.

“Of course I noticed.” Keith shakes his head, the tiniest jerk of his chin. “You’ve been really quiet since the castle went rogue last week. What happened?”

“Nothing,” Shiro says. That isn’t a lie; not really. It’s nothing he should be upset about. It’s nothing he should dwell on. Shiro can’t let himself do that.

“No,” Keith says sharply. “Don’t give me that.”

Over Keith’s shoulder, Lance glances over. He’s curious. Checking in.

“Not now, Keith,” Shiro manages. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

“Then when is?” Keith asks, quick on the pursuit. “We’re worried about you. Everyone on this ship was attacked when the castle went rogue. You know the Gladiator tried to kill me. Lance nearly got spaced. Hunk’s still having nightmares about starving in zero-G. You’re not the only one who went through something, here.”

“I know,” Shiro manages. Guilt flashes through him, clogs in his throat. Hunk’s been having nightmares? Where has Shiro _been_ , that he didn’t know? Wallowing? “And Allura lost her father, which is why - ”

“That’s not my point and you know it,” Keith interrupts, heated and harsher than he probably means. There’s fire in his words; Keith pulls back, reeling himself in. “My point is that we shouldn’t have left you alone with Sendak. It’s not your fault.”

Something in Shiro stills, just a little. Keith’s simple wording echoes inside him, shaking something loose. _Not your fault._

“What happened?” Keith asks, quiet. Calm. “What did Sendak say?”

“How do you know he said something?” Shiro blurts, before he can stop himself.

“Because I saw you afterwards,” Keith says bluntly. “You looked awful. He couldn’t do anything to you unless he broke out of Coran’s magic space pod, so it’s got to be something he said. What was it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shiro tries.

“Like hell.” Keith stands his ground. “I thought you said no more secrets. What happened?”

That stings. He shouldn’t be grateful that Keith thought to apologize for leaving him alone, he shouldn’t be just a little eager to maybe finally have someone willing to listen. Shiro shouldn’t be dwelling on this at all. “It’s not a secret,” Shiro argues. “And it doesn’t matter, because it doesn’t. It happened, it’s over. Sendak’s gone.”

“Gone because of the ship?” Keith asks, softly.

Shiro can’t meet his eyes.

“No one blames you, you know,” Keith says. He steps forward, places his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “That rat of a Galra deserves to suffocate in space ten times over for everything he’s done to you. If you hadn’t spaced him, I would’ve.”

“That’s no way for us to treat our prisoners.” That answer’s easy and automatic. Which is good, considering Keith’s firm declaration of _willing to commit murder_ leaves Shiro just a little shaken. He shouldn’t be glad to hear that. “No matter what they’ve done to us, we still - ”

“And if I hadn’t, I bet you Pidge would’ve,” Keith finishes, right over him. “Or Hunk, or Lance. You’re one of us, Shiro. You don’t need to hold yourself apart and be _better_ or keep _secrets_ or anything. We get it. You don’t need to hide.”

“One of us?” Shiro manages, teasing weakly. “You and Lance are getting along that well, huh?”

“Not you too,” Keith says, exasperated. “At least Lance is talking to me, unlike _someone_ I could name. You’re not off the hook here, Shiro. Tell me what Sendak said.”

Could he? Could it be that - easy?

“Talking helps,” Keith insists, quiet and low. His body is a shield between Shiro and the others; it’s enough. It’s just them. “Isn’t that what you’ve always told me? So I’m not allowed to bottle up when I’m this upset, but you are?”

“No,” Shiro manages, thickly.

Keith raises a pointed eyebrow. “So?”

So? Shiro’s been trying so hard not to think about it -

_You’re a broken soldier._

\- but it’s still there. The words are still there, rising out of a slew of sickening magenta that’s alive inside him, buried deep and squirming. He can’t control it. He doesn’t know what it _is_. It creeps up on him at night; it creeps up on him during the daytime; it takes the form of insidious words that worm their way inside him and sink tenterhooks into his brain and don’t. let. him. go.

_The others don’t know what you know. They haven’t seen what you’ve seen._

Sendak’s words linger in his mind, over and over and over, played and scratched to uselessness. The worst part is that it’s probably true - it has to be true - but Shiro doesn’t _know,_ because Shiro can’t remember. The horrific sea of violet lurks when he closes his eyes. It’s waiting when he’s awake, curled in lies of disgusting amnesia. The not knowing is frightening. The knowing might almost be worse.

_You’re broken._

He’s tired.

And if Shiro’s being honest, he’s probably the furthest thing from alright _._

Keith’s still looking at him, waiting. Patient. Unyielding.

_Talking helps._

“Sendak,” Shiro starts, through a throat tight and choked. “I’m not - sure if it was him or if I was - hallucinating, exactly. But he made…comparisons.”

Keith’s eyes narrow. “What kind of comparisons?”

Shame coils in Shiro’s gut. “Between him and - ”

“Guys, look at this!” That’s Pidge, interrupting loud and excited from the other side of the bridge. Her glasses are still glowing from the screens, perfect circles of reflective light perched on either side of her nose. “Get over here, I think I’ve found something.”

Everything Shiro was about to say withers and dies on his tongue.

“Pidge, give us a minute,” Keith calls to her, over his shoulder. He turns back to Shiro. “Between him and who?”

“Keith - ”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Shiro closes his eyes.

“You’re nothing like him,” Keith says, after a moment’s passed, after Shiro can’t say anything else. Keith’s words are fast and low and furious. _“Nothing._ Do you understand?”

“Guys,” Pidge calls, again.

“Do you understand?” Keith repeats. His hand’s never moved from Shiro’s arm.

Shiro wants to. There’s a floodgate straining inside him, barely holding back a storm he doesn’t understand. But there isn’t time. They don’t have time.

“Yes,” Shiro says, at last, and with that simple little word - a weight he didn’t really know he’s been bearing lifts from his chest.

“We aren’t done,” Keith warns. “We’re going to see what Pidge wants, and we _are_ talking about this later.”

“If you’re sure,” Shiro says.

It’s small. It’s slight. It’s tied up in the same weight as _it isn’t your fault_ , and for just a moment - a fragile, delicate moment - there’s a little glimmer of hope.

They can talk about it later. There’ll be time.

“It took a while,” Pidge explains, as they draw near. Hunk and Lance lean over her shoulders, the Alteans hovering too. “Most of it was a garbled mess, but one thing kept repeating: something called a ‘Universal Station.’”

“Universal station?” Hunk repeats, leaning closer to see. Pidge pushes his head out of her way, and from there, really, it’s only a matter of time.

Saving the universe, as always, comes first. It has to.

“I’m still holding you to it,” Keith mutters, minutes later, as the group splits off towards their control panels to ready themselves for flight. “Soon as we’re back from this ‘space base’ you and I are finishing that conversation.”

Shiro nods.

There’ll be time.

Surely they’ll have time.

How long can breaking into a ‘universal space station’ take?

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Season Two! :)


End file.
